I woke up the next morning feeling like I hadn’t slept at all. The betrayed expression on Sir Wilson’s face was etched into my mind, and I didn’t think I could ever forget it. It wasn't the anger of being betrayed by a comrade, but the sorrow of discovering that someone he trusted had lied.

Would he tell the other knights? And if he did, what would they do? We were still on Vraynian soil, and they still had the power to arrest me, if they were so inclined. I wanted to believe my brothers wouldn’t do that to me, but it was possible that they didn’t consider me a brother anymore.

There wasn’t much I could do about it, so I decided to cling to blind optimism. Worrying over what I couldn’t control was pointless. Whatever would happen would happen.

Shaking off those lingering emotions, I dragged myself out of my tent and winced at the morning sun. The light stabbed my eyes, aggravating the relentless pounding in my head. This was definitely going to be a rough day. I silently cursed Nico and his refills. Who asked him to keep my mug full all night?

Oh, right. It was me. I asked him.

The camp was already awake and lively, as if no one but me had been up drinking until the wee hours of the morning. Actually, upon closer inspection, there seemed to be plenty of folks who were cursing the sun as much as I was. They were just better at pushing through it.

I caught sight of the man who was at least partially responsible for my woes standing near one of the fires. Nico, who had drunk only one mug for every three he poured me, was hard at work serving breakfast to the hungover beastmen, looking like he wasn’t feeling any ill effects at all.

I felt a flash of resentment toward him. Part of me wondered if he’d only been friendly last night so he could enjoy watching me suffer today.

But, if that really was the case, I had no grounds for complaint. I'd played an active role in orchestrating my own downfall. I should have listened to Falyn when he warned me that beastmen were good at drinking. I also should have listened his warning to stay away from the wolves. Really, I had no one to blame but myself.

The smell of food drifted through the air, making my stomach grumble. My mouth watered at the thought of whatever was simmering in those common pots. I counted my blessings that my stomach was fine and stumbled toward the constantly moving line.

“You look like shit.”

Vargas appeared at my side, taking in my bedraggled state with a hint of amusement. He took a bite from the half-empty bowl of porridge in his hand. It didn't look all that appealing, but it smelled heavenly. I silently willed the line to move faster.

“Here,” he said, offering me a waterskin, which I accepted gratefully. I drank long and deep before passing it back to him.

“Thank you,” I said, feeling a little bit better as soon as the water hit my stomach, “I think I overdid it a bit last night.”

“You think?” Vargas shook his head, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Don’t worry. We’ll build up your tolerance if you stick around long enough.”

“You might kill me first,” I joked, “I can assure you that I feel about as shitty as I look. Which, by the way, is about as shitty as you looked after your solo drinking party the other night.”

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again,” Vargas chuckled, clearly unbothered by my teasing, “Don’t worry, little knight boy, you’re still pretty. Just not as pretty as you were yesterday.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” I asked, batting my eyelashes at him, “Bet you say that to all the humans.”

Vargas grimaced, “Nah, most humans are ugly as fuck. The rest of them knight boys all got these expressions like they can smell something rank. Seriously, look at ‘em over there.”

Vargas gestured and my eyes followed to where the Knights of the Golden Palace stood, watching me with unveiled reproach. Sir Wilson had definitely told them what he heard.

My good spirits plummeted as my eyes fell on the culprit, who was doing his best to be invisible behind his glaring superiors. I couldn’t even be disappointed in him, given that it was my own carelessness that brought this about.

Seeing the smile fall from my face, Vargas asked, “Something happen between you guys last night? I came to check on you later, but Mara told me you up and disappeared at some point. We figured you just drank too much and needed to sleep it off.”

“Yeah,” I answered in a subdued voice, “I guess you could say something happened. One of them overheard me saying something a little blasphemous last night. He must have already told the rest of them, judging by, well, that.”

“Blasphemous?” Vargas scoffed, “You? But you’re supposed to be the perfect little knight boy who never does anything wrong. My image of you is shattered. But I think I might be a little proud. Keep it up, and one day, you’ll be a real little knight man.”

I laughed despite the lump of anxiety churning in my stomach, “Thanks, Vargas. I think I needed that.”

While we were talking, the line moved quickly, and soon Nico was holding out a bowl of porridge for me.

“I don’t have to fight you for it this time?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, look who it is,” Nico smirked, an aura of smugness surrounding him, “How’s that hangover treatin’ you, human?”

I shot an aggrieved look at the man responsible for my perpetually full mug last night. He looked far too pleased with himself for it to be a coincidence. My suspicions regarding his motives the previous night resurfaced.

“What are you talking about?” I replied breezily, “I feel great. Never better. If only the sun would stop shining.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Nico laughed, flashing me a genuine smile—something that didn’t go unnoticed by the other beastmen by the fire.

“You makin’ friends with humans now, Nico?” a sharp voice interrupted.

I vaguely recognized the owner of the voice, but I couldn’t quite place why.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jerran,” Vargas growled, “Do you really have nothing better to do?”

“I'm just wondering what changed his mind,” Jerran shrugged, “‘cause it was only yesterday that Nico was saying these silver-haired freaks need to go back where they came from.”

Oddly enough, where Jerran seemed to be insulting me, his words were clearly meant to provoke Vargas. And it was working. Vargas looked like he was about to rip Jerran’s head off. As much as I wanted to see that happen, my natural instinct was to diffuse the situation.

“Nico!” I exclaimed, cutting in before Vargas could respond, “How could you say such a thing? You hadn’t even met me yet!”

“Forgive me my insolence, O Royal one,” Nico responded dryly, “I have reconsidered my previous statement. You’re free to stay, ya silver-haired freak.”

Belatedly, I remembered that Jerran was the name of the beastman that had picked a fight with Falyn on the way to Luz Dorada. Andrian had told me about it the day we’d gone into the inner city together. Jerran was also the one who had wanted to refuse our help in the slums. Apparently, he still had a chip on his shoulder.

“Ah, um, excuse me,” someone interrupted from behind me, “Sir Evan?”

I turned to find Sir Wilson standing behind me, looking grave and nervous.

“Sir Evan, my apologies for interrupting, but we require your presence,” he said stiffly, wringing his hands as he spoke.

I should have expected as much. I thought they’d at least let me finish breakfast first.

“Of course you do,” I sighed in resignation, “Sir Wilson, lead the way.”

I quickly shoveled the porridge into my mouth as we walked. If I was about to be put on trial, I might as well do it on a full stomach.